I don't like Mondays
by dangerusliasons
Summary: Two CIA agents are in Ireland on a mini vacation when an IRA retaliation sends them into a tale spin, and when JAG gets involved things become much more complicated.


Title: I don't like Mondays

Authors: Apesshiper & dangerousliasons

Fandom: JAG

Rating: M

Summary: Bombs go off outside of a pub where two CIA agents have met for drinks and two relax and the hunt for the bombers ensues.

Disclaimer: We do not own JAG or any of it's characters.

~*~

Angie walked down a street of Northern Ireland. Normally, she could get lost in the weather and scenery, the peaceful feeling, despite the history, but she knew she couldn't let herself get caught up. She had a job to do. She scanned the streets, looking for a familiar face, smiling when she saw him. Clayton Webb, in his signature three piece suit, strolled casually down the familiar streets. It was almost like coming home. He was scanning the crowds for her, while carefully taking in his surroundings always keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. It took him a few minutes to find her face in the crowd. He moved towards her, happy to see her again. It had been a while.

She couldn't help but smile as she compared his three-piece suit to her jeans and sweater. She kissed his cheek when he came near. "Clay." He had been one of her close friends for years, the only one she felt she could talk to about the things they saw, the things they did.

"It's good to see you, Angie." He said with genuine emotion. She was the only one he confess things to, when he could to no one else. He felt like she was a part of him. Almost family.

She looked at a local pub. "Ale or hotel room?" The pub would be loud enough that they could talk quietly but the hotel would be quiet enough they could hear themselves think.

"Ale. I could use a drink." He smiled at her, and offered her his arm.

She took it, walking beside him. She wasn't sure what his call would entail, but she was glad he had called her. Things had piled up so heavily on her that she needed a break and she knew he did as well. They walked into the pub and he ordered for them, leaving their tab open. "How's things?" He asked, setting the drinks down and then sitting down at a little table in the corner.

"The same." She studied him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, worn out, in need a vacation...same ole, same ole..." He smiled and took a gulp of Guiness.

She sipped her own. "Good." She paused. "I was a little worried when you called," she confessed.

"You worry too much." He scolded her, a smile forming on his lips.

She smiled, tucking strands of brown hair behind her ear. "You give me reason..." she shot back. She paused. "How's Porter?"

"Me?!" He shot back, looking innocent. "She's fine, says hello."

"Dad's fine...doesn't say the same. Chris does, though," she said, referring to her father and stepmother as she took another drink. She didn't know why she felt nervous this time. Maybe she was just tired; maybe it was taking her longer this time to wind down from her last mission. She looked over at him, trying to gauge if he was relaxed, if it was just her.

"I should be asking if you're okay." He looked at her with concern. She was fidgeting and that was something she just didn't do. He felt a bit off as well, but shook it off.

She took a sip. "I just...I've got one of those feelings again. I guess I just need to settle down some." He nodded, drinking again, but still looking at her. He couldn't figure out what it was, usually he could read her like a book, but not this time. He still had the strangest of feelings, as if something were going to happen. They were in Ireland after all. They drank their glasses and half their refills, but the nervousness didn't go away. They talked about everything, home, their families, vague details about their last mission in hushed, almost unheard tones, and although they were somewhat relaxed, the feeling was still there.

~*~

Suddenly, screams filled the air as well as the sound of glass breaking, the all-too-familiar sounds to both of them of explosions, two to be precise. Clay quickly pulled her under the table, covering her body with his own. Looking around--checking to see if there were any more explosions than just the two. People were running from the pub, out in to the street. "Are you okay?" He shouted, being deafened by the blast.

She nodded, feeling pain in her back, but rationalizing that if she could feel pain there, it was good. "You?"

He nodded, helping her out from under the table, and walking with her out into the street. "It's gotta be IRA." He said aloud.

"Yeah." She looked around, trying to make sure that everyone who could be helped was being helped.

He looked around and found a hotel nearby. He had to pull Angie a little bit to get her to focus and come with him to the hotel. He got them two rooms, and made sure she got to the room. "You don't need me to stay do you?" He asked, he wanted to stay and make sure she was ok. But they were friends and he didn't want to intrude if she didn't want him to.

She studied him, trying to choose between the way she was raised and the feelings she was having. "I want you to stay."

"I guess this'll turn into a working weekend, huh?" She asked, trying to bring levity that neither felt, closing her eyes, smelling his cologne and a scent that was ultimately Clay.

"Yeah." He let a small laugh escape him. Everytime they seem to be together just for a bite to eat or a drink work had to rear its ugly head and they were off.

She moved back slightly, brushing some hair behind her head. "We should probably report in."

He didn't say anything, instead just taking her in. Before he knew it he leaned in and his lips were pressed against hers. When he didn't get any resistance, his tongue ventured out, teasing her lips. She made a small, almost unheard noise, kissing him back, opening her mouth slightly for him, wanting more. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and pulled her closer, threading his hand in her hair. He moved them, to the wall, pushing her up against it, continuing his assault on her mouth, and letting his hands wander over her body. She untucked his shirt, running her hands inside, over his chest, feeling the scars against the smoothness. His shirt was off in less than a heartbeat and she continued kissing him, unable to stop even if she'd wanted. The need for oxygen made him pull away, and he stood there, looking at her. He took off her shirt, and moved to her neck, licking and sucking, his hands moving down to her hips. She walked forwards with him, his belt being removed, his pants unfastened, the back of his legs touching the bed before they tumbled onto it, her hands exploring. He let a moan escape from his throat as her hands explored all the scars and cuts on his body, making him feel alive. He cupped her butt, rubbing and pulling her legs up so that she was straddling him, his hips moving against her. She let out a low groan, his pants joining his shirt in the floor, forgetting about her back hurting, forgetting about the explosion or their previous missions. She wasn't exactly new to survival sex, but it had never felt like this before. He continued the exploration of her body, her pants coming off, and her skin felt like smooth slik. He flipped them over so he was on top, and he could feel himself slip into her body. It felt so natural, and safe. He'd only felt like this one other time. She moved with him, molding into him, letting herself relax, be at peace, holding onto him as if she were afraid it was just a dream. She moaned his name, holding on, stopping when she heard her cell phone ring.

At the same time, his went off as well. And he collapsed against her, whispering in her ear. "I hate my job." He pushed up and looked at her, cupping her face with his hand and kissing her gently.

She kissed a spot right below his ear. "Answer it," she whispered. "But remember where we were."

"How could I forget?" He kissed her again, getting off of her, and rifling through his pants and answering his phone.

She rolled over, seeing the caller ID, and answered hers as well. "Hey, Kelly." She wanted to pretend that it wasn't the huge inconvenience that it was, the woman being her only other CIA friend. "What's up?"

"Two bombs went off this morning. We just got the information, we're still trying to piece together what happened, but we suspect IRA involvement. Tensions in the region have been rising for sometime and the Prime Minister's actions of last week didn't do anything to calm down the situation. We need you to do your thing..." Kelly said, scanning her computer for any new information, "If I get anything more I'll let you know."

"Near Belfast." She answered. "Was anyone killed?"

"Ten civlians, twenty injured."

"Lord," she whispered, not in the way it was intended. "Okay, thanks."

"Be careful." Kelly told her friend.

"Always." She hung up, looking back to have Clay watching her, through with his call as well.

"Guess we have to get back to work." He said, his face conveying no emotion even though he got the same news she just did from the look on her face.

"At least we have first-hand knowledge of the event." She said, not that it made much difference.

"This time, I wish we didn't." He quickly began to put on his clothing. "Do we know anything other than the obvious?" She repeated what Kelly had told her, but knew it wasn't anything they both didn't already know. "Damn." He said, scenarios running through his head, trying to come up with a plan--something--anything.

"We could go downstairs, talk with people, feel around to see if they know anything." She felt like she was missing something very important, but had no idea what it could be.

"Yeah, it's a start."

She looked at him as she put her clothes back on. "Rain check?"

"Definitely." He gave her a wicked grin. And the left the room, and went down stairs to start the interviews.


End file.
